


choke me

by lokidreamsinbw



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Choking Kink, M/M, Masturbation, breath play, loki loves being choked while he's coming, thor's there to give him uh a helping hand wink wink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:12:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidreamsinbw/pseuds/lokidreamsinbw
Summary: 17 year old Loki’s addicted to choking porn vids, then he meets Thor who has an interesting addiction of his own





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Choke Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788016) by [lokidreamsinbw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidreamsinbw/pseuds/lokidreamsinbw), [SedinetteMichaelis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SedinetteMichaelis/pseuds/SedinetteMichaelis)



> This work includes choking kink and breathplay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kay guys, Loki's close to 18 in this, Thor's around 25.

Loki snaps the rubber band against his wrist.

Hard.

Bites his upper lip cause shit that hurt.

He’s shopping for clothes with his mom and he’s getting the bad thoughts again. Cause the guy working the counter looks like the kinda guy that’ll wrap one of his giant hands around your neck and squeeze nice and tight while he’s pounding into you, fast and deep.

Some people don’t get the whole choking thing. Loki tried talking about it once to this girl he was kinda friends with in school. They were sharing a strawberry soda sitting shoulder to shoulder in the cafeteria passing a straw between them. She used to talk about sex all the time so Loki thought _hey, I can tell her right, she’ll be cool about it._ So he was like _you know what gets me off._ Without missing a beat, looking all bored, she went _no, what._ And he raised one shoulder and went _choking._ The look she gave him. _Like, killing people?_ She asked him and he could see she was ready to tick him off the friends list super fast cause psycho. _What, no!_ He blinked super fast and leaned in so the students sitting around the other tables won’t hear, _like, choking. You know, when someone’s fucking you and they put their hands around your throat and they cut off your air. And it’s like, your life is in their hands. Like, they could kill you but they could also let you live. And you get this super powerful orgasm cause you’re about to pass out and it feels like you’re flying._ And he gave her this look like please don’t think I’m a freak and she looked him over, actually pulled back a little bit to look him over from head to toe, and she said all haughty _that’s fucked up, man._ Fucking ouch. Fucking mortifying.

He went home that day and cleared the entire history off his laptop, worrying the round neck of his t shirt between his teeth. All the links to his favorite choking porn vids, gone. And he sat there in the chair rocking in it from side to side kinda mortified and kinda relieved cause he thought _problem solved, time to turn the page. You wanna masturbate just watch some normal guy on guy porn and get off, don’t be such a weirdo about it._

Two days later Loki was climaxing hard to a full shot of a guy that kinda reminded him of himself, being fucked from behind by a gorgeous golden haired _beast_ (cause giant fucking muscles _everywhere_ ) and choked (the blonde choking him had all these beautiful veins on his forearms cause 6 hours at the gym and fucking leather bracelets sliding down his wrists and silver rings catching the studio lights and to Loki it was a living masterpiece of masculine perfection). Turn the page, huh? Easier said than done.

It was kinda innocent at first, like going to a party, watching other people dance but not dancing yourself. He was sixteen at the time. He’d come home from school, check the house to make sure his mom and dad aren’t home, run up to his room, close the stupid curtains cause the stupid bright afternoon light always distracted him, plop down in the chair in front of the computer and move the cursor. The screen going from black to desktop all sleepy like he’d just woken it up never failed to make his heart beat faster cause his brain knew what was coming next. Pavlovian.

 

He’d lean back in the chair with one of his favorite choking vids playing on the screen, sweaty back of his neck sticking to the soft leather of the headrest and, breathing with his mouth open, cock in hand, he’d watch and jerk off.

You don’t need to really have someone’s palm pressing down on your windpipe to feel actual pressure. Your mind is awesome in making you _feel_ what you _see_. You see fingers digging into someone’s neck, closing around a prominent adam’s apple, you feel that pulling/ pushing sensation and you crane your neck back so you’ll have more room to breathe. Your mind says _hey, breathing crisis here, and it’s happening to **you**_ , and you believe it.

That’s why, at first, just watching someone else being choked was enough—Loki would come all over his hand just by rewinding that bit when the hips of the one being choked jerk up and his eyes roll in the back of his head as the man that’s thrusting roughly into him is hitting the spot and the reduced blood flow to his brain creates a powerful cocktail of divine ecstasy and nearness to death, and brings on a fucking heavenly orgasm that’s really hard to shake off. Loki would sit there, slumped in the chair, panting. He’d throw his head back, close his eyes and his hand would still be moving slowly, gently, up and down, his thumb fluttering over the head, soothing strokes with his lower lip caught between his teeth. And he’d be satisfied with that, love the feeling of the adrenaline wearing off gradually but still leaving delicious thorns inside his heart to poke the tender muscle whenever a fragment from one of the vids would pop up into his head: mouth open wide begging for air, strong fingers crushing arteries under their force and pressure.

But as weeks passed, things changed. Loki became more aware of certain things. Belts, in particular. Charger chords. Old electrical cables. Bag straps. Ear bud wires. He’d spot this item or another throughout the day. At home, at school, at the shops when his mom would send him to buy some stuff for her. Everywhere he looked, things you could fasten around your neck.  Hold with one hand, play with himself using the other.

The thought seemed weird at first. Extreme. Kind of scary. Loki would imagine himself with a charger cord wrapped tight around his neck, endless loops of black shiny plastic digging into his pale skin, cutting in a little, and his mind would kind of reject that quickly, focus leaping towards another subject that had nothing to do with porn and breath play, like school work and that group of guys that always made fun of him cause he’d wear eyeliner and mascara.

But the thoughts kept coming, his eyes kept wandering, looking for a piece of cloth, a choker, an unused laundry wire. He’d be having dinner with his parents and his gaze would find some discarded cut zip ties in the corner there next to the fridge and his hand would move to his throat, dragging his fingers over the bulging windpipe, the stretchy tendons, the squishy arteries. He’d be sitting in class and the guy sitting in front of him would be taking notes and playing with his chain and Loki would force himself to look away, press his knuckles to his mouth and move his teeth over them to keep his mind occupied.

Wrapping something around his neck in order to push down on the arteries and stop the blood from flowing, it seemed harsh. But he still wanted something, _needed_ something pressing down on his throat while he’s coming, cause just watching it happen to someone else, just wasn’t enough anymore, Loki wanted to feel it too. He wanted the excitement, he wanted the fear, he wanted the lightheadedness, his lungs fighting for air.

So he started small. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand, from the bridge of his nose down to his chin. It had nothing to do with the throat, but it was air restriction and that was part of it, part of what excited him. He dug his fingers hard into his face, thumb digging into his cheekbone, fingers applying pressure on his jaw. And it was this tangy scent of tangerine in his nose cause he was addicted to this hand lotion at the time ( _summer kisses!!_ ) taking up all the oxygen and his room growing darker in the corners and the choked sound of his inhalations and exhalations like breathing inside a space suit and it wasn’t zero air in his lungs but it was enough to make him feel like he was getting kinda dizzy and his hand over his nose and mouth was enough for his brain to imagine it’s someone else’s hand keeping him quiet not wanting him to make a sound, and his muffled cry as he came hard, sucking in air through the tiny spaces between his fingers as hard as he could.

After a while, Loki decided to try something else. He still wasn’t brave enough to try it with a cord or a wire, so he decided on his own hand around his throat. Thing is, your brain doesn’t want you dead. It senses that it’s losing oxygen fast, it makes you relax your grip. Loki tried, but his fingers kept letting go, losing their grip on his windpipe, making way for the blood to rush freely to his head. He’d try to synchronize it with the exact moment the blonde beast wraps his fingers around the other’s neck, mimic the tightening of the fingers, the pressure they apply on the arteries, the exact location of each fingertip; Loki would squeeze whenever the blonde would squeeze, relax his grip a little whenever he did, stroke the tendons, tease at the pulse point with his thumb. But Loki wasn’t strong enough to cut off his air entirely, and whenever he’d run out of air his hand would slip and he’d gasp loudly, tears springing to his eyes, wet teeth flashing in the darkness of his bedroom. So he settled for just keeping his hand there, feeling its warmth and closeness, and imagine it’s someone else’s hand. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked for a while.

Then came the belt.  Loki only used it twice. It was one of his favorites. It was black and the buckle was shaped like a horizontal half moon, silver and heavy. He got it the year before at this store that had all kinds of things that had nothing to do with each other for sale like posters and candles and fucking normal dinner plates. He loved it and gathering the courage to actually wrap it around his neck, slide the end of it through the buckle and tug till it was like he was on a leash or had his neck in a noose with the long end held tight in his fist, was hard, but he did it. It was fake leather and it was cool on his skin like he took it out of the freezer and his heartbeat was causing the strap to jerk up and down super fast and his palms were super sweaty and it was a _what the fuck are you doing_ moment but he just had to do it. Loki played the video and when the guy was coming, eyes rolling back in his head with a sensual lash flutter, a giant hand cutting off his air, Loki tugged on the belt hard and it _fucking worked._ No air, pulse slowing down and this rush of adrenaline, electric from head to toe and he came so hard he actually cried out but no sound came out and everything went black for a few beautiful moments.

The next time he did it his mom walked in on him. She found her son jerking off with a belt hooked around his neck and she was mortified.  His parents insisted on Loki seeing a psychologist, talking to someone about it cause it’s not just that they got freaked out thinking he was trying to kill himself or that he was going to try and do it sometime in the future, but they got scared he’ll do it again and end up dying without actually meaning to.

That’s where he got his wristband. Dr. Ragil gave it to him. It was purple rubber. Smelled like a very clean office. _You get a thought like this, you snap this against your wrist. I want it to be: bad thought SNAP. Bad thought SNAP. Understand me? Say it with me. Bad thought—_

_Snap,_ Loki said drily, feeling like an idiot.

_Try it now._

Loki raised his eyes to him, totally not in the mood for this, _should I think a…bad thought?_

Dr. Ragil looked mortified, _no no no! Just try it. Snap it against your wrist. Just—_

Loki tugged on the wristband with his thumb. Pulled it back, a long stretch. Then—

SNAP!

_That hurts!_

_Well, that’s the point my dear boy. It’s to stop you from thinking these thoughts. These are bad thoughts. Dangerous. You don’t want to be thinking them. Normal people don’t have these thoughts. You want to be normal, don’t you? People who mingle in society, they don’t come back home from their jobs and watch pornographic material with their neck in a noose. Do what I’ve taught you for a while, and the thoughts will go away._

The thought of being normal was promising. It felt good to think he can be like other people without needing to hide or feel ashamed. So he tried it. And it worked kinda. But it didn’t cure him.

He’d get a thought, he’d snap the band. Thought, snap. Thought, snap. Countless times a day. At school it wasn’t that horrible cause no one would really notice him doing it, they just thought he was bored and was playing around with it. It was really embarrassing when he was home and around his parents cause it’d happen while they’d be watching TV, having dinner, washing the dishes. They’d hear the snap or see him starting to tug on it and they’d know their son is thinking about sex and breath play and they’d give him a look that’d make him feel like he’s the most horrible person in the world.

But, having the bracelet on him at all times, it also encouraged his mind to keep imagining all the bad things, cause his brain would feel it there and it would remember the thing it’s supposed not to remember and it’s backfiring on him all the time.

And now.

The sharp SNAP!  makes the guy behind the counter turn his head to look and fuck, he’s gorgeous. Blonde hair down to his shoulders, white cut off shirt on beautiful tanned skin, huge biceps, lovely strong neck and hands, bad boy smile. He looks like that sexy blonde beast from that vid and Loki’s mind is blown.

He runs his eyes over Loki as he’s putting some clothes in a bag for a woman who has just payed and is ready to leave with her angst-ridden teenage son. He spotted Loki standing there next to this rack full of short sleeved shirts and he’s watching him playing with the wristband, looking amused and curious.

“Need some help there?” he asks, raising his voice over the soft pop music that’s playing.

Loki twists the wristband between his fingers as his eyes slip down to the guy’s strong hands. He’s got a ring on each thumb, also one on the middle finger of his right hand, and another one on the index finger of his left hand. Loki spots the bulging veins on the backs of his hands from over here and they’re delicious.

Hey, there’s a thought: this stud strutting over to him with a smirk on, looking him over, spotting Loki’s hard on through his grey skinny jeans. Smile growing bigger, the guy all in Loki’s personal space now. Left hand, the one with the dazzling gold watch, wrapping itself around Loki’s neck while his right hand slips under the waistband, palming Loki’s cock. Need some help there, he asks, tongue playing across his upper lip.

Loki snaps the wristband again.

The guy sees and hears it, frowns and smiles a little.

Loki looks around quickly. Spots his mother’s red hair really far away, checking out some dresses.

“Uh,” he looks back at the guy, “no, I’m cool. Thanks.”

The guy’s not buying it. Cause Loki _does_ look like he needs a hand, cutting off his oxy—

Loki turns away, twists the band so hard around his wrist that if it was someone’s neck they’d be choking right now cause fuck it, snapping it hurts and it’s annoying and it doesn’t fucking work!

Loki stands there checking his phone for a few minutes, pretending  he has a life and friends that are actually texting him, trying to keep his mind busy so when his mom will be ready to pay for whatever stuff she got he’d tell her he’s going to wait in the car cause he’s not feeling well, cause there’s no way he can stand there and watch this guy fold their clothes and run her card without thinking about how close they’re standing and how fucking hot his eyes look from so up close.

But then, the approaching sound of heavy boots. _His_ boots.

The guy comes to stand next to him and fuck he smells amazing, like summer and warm beaches and wild oceans.

Loki decides to snap at him cause maybe that’ll make him go away.

“I said I don’t need any help, thank you,” he says all angry and his wrist stings really bad.

The guy looks him over, huge arms folded tight across his broad chest.

“Huh,” he says, “that’s interesting. I think we all need a little bit of help sometimes.”

Loki looks up from his phone, around the shop, making a show of it, “did I end up in the wrong place? It _is_ a clothing shop, right, not some shrink’s office?”

The guy smiles all crooked, “hmm. It’s funny you’d mention a shrink’s office.”

“Is it.”

“Yeah. Cause—”

He presses a finger to his lip, squints at Loki, “—I happen to know one. On Fulton street.”

Loki gulps without even realizing.

“Sounds familiar? Dr. Ragil. Someone cancelled two weeks ago and while I was waiting for him to tell me to come inside, I happened to hear some stuff. Sounded fun. Belts. Breath play—”

The guy smiles huge, “bad thoughts.”

What the fuck.

The guy hooks a finger under Loki’s wristband, “yeah. Dr. Ragil. Looks after me too. He’s not bad. Can’t really make ya normal, but hey he’s trying.”

Loki finds his voice, it’s small and hoarse but it’s there, “what you see him for.”

The look the guy gets in his eye is to die for: hot and turned on and devilish.

“I have a,” his gaze leaps to Loki’s neck, “choking kink. Seeing people fighting for air, having them under my hand, it’s this crazy power trip, it gets me off.”

What the actual fuck.

Loki kinda stares at him, heart going like crazy in his chest and it can’t be real but it’s happening and it’s all he ever wanted.

The guy snaps Loki’s band.

He gets really close to him, never breaking eye contact.

Then he says all low and breathy, “how about you try it for real this time?”

The blonde’s name is Thor and with one strong pull he tears Loki’s wristband right off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obvs there will be more! Thank you to all you lovelies for reading and commenting, your words mean the world! <3  
> A big thank you to SedinetteMichaelis for loving this fic and translating it into French!
> 
> Contains breath play.

It takes his mom a day to notice Loki's rubber band is missing.

She's bent over the coffee table flipping through magazines to decide which to keep and which to toss and she happens to look up when Loki makes his way to the kitchen to grab some cherry soda.

"Loki."

Without slowing down Loki goes: "yeah?"

Straightening her back with one of her husband's boring financial magazines in hand: "where's your band?"

And it's that kinda thing like what to do, stop or keep walking, which will make lying to his mom easier. He loses the walking coordination thing for a moment cause panicked brain and does this embarrassing like stumble but brushes it off quick, ducking into the kitchen.

"Uh, I don't know," he says from the fridge and kinda winces over the soda can he's grabbing cause it sounds horrible and the question artillery is on its way he knows it.

The magazine hits the table, "what do you mean you don't know."

Coming to stand in the kitchen doorway, he rolls the freezing can between his palms, "it's probably—"

His mom points to the can, "get a glass for that, please."

Popping open the cabinet above the sink, Loki gets a glass.

 "It's probably—" he starts again but pauses when he spots a black ribbon left out on the counter. His mom dragged him to Walmart after they were done with the clothing shop and bought a stack of pretty pens that were held together with said ribbon. It's a little see-through and has tiny golden specks all over it.

Putting the glass down, Loki looks over his shoulder to see if she's watching then snatches the ribbon, rolls it into a little soft ball and puts it in his pocket for later choking use.

"Loki?"

"Err—" in the doorway again, Loki points the glass at the stairs, "it's probably in my room somewhere."

"Go get it," she orders, "I want to see you wearing it."

Well, that's gonna be a problem mom, cause the cute little purple rubber band, Thor kept it, right after he snapped it off my wrist. Gave me the craziest wolfish grin and stuffed it in his back pocket and went _you won't need that anymore_. And who's Thor you ask, you probably don't wanna know mom.

Loki gives her a short nod, "I'll go look for it."

"You better find it!" she yells after him as he races up the stairs to his room.

He doesn't, obviously. You can't find something that's not there.

He throws some stuff around to make it look like he looked really really hard for it and sips on his soda (straight out of the can thank you) like yep did a good job here.

She appears in his room 10 minutes later, pinning her curly hair on the top of her head cause crazy spring heat wave, giving him a typical mom look when she spots the mess and his still naked wrist.

"You usually take it off?"

He doesn't, actually. He even showers with it on cause with the hot water and the steam and his pounding heart he always gets a hard on and that's when the chocking thoughts make an appearance (or vice versa who fucking knows) so.

"Yeah," he lies, and with his hands on his hips looks around the room like _hey bummer we can't find that, right? Whatever shall we do now._

"You got money?"

He frowns at her, "a couple bucks, yeah."

"Good. Go to the store and get some rubber bands. Now."

His mind instantly fires all the things: _it's a different band it won't work_ (yeah, right) ; _maybe I'll ask Dr. Ragil for a new one the next time I see him_ ; _I'll just look for it later, okay?_

But instead he goes: "mom, it's super hot outside. I'll go tomor—"

His mom snatches the empty glass he brought with him off the table and points to the soda can, "take that with you. You can take my car."

With her ponytail swinging from side to side like a pendulum she exits his room and he turns her car keys in his hand with a gloomy look.

 

Standing in line at the store, noisy bag full of rubber bands in his hand, Loki watches the man in front of him. He's got a big shiny bald head and he's rubbing the front of his neck absentmindedly. He's pinching his windpipe over and over again, tilting his head back, feeling up his Adam's apple. He smells like long days at the office and boring air freshener and his fingers keep pinching and letting go, pinching and letting go, poking his jugular with 3 fingers.

The AC is blasting Alaska super freezing air and the man's hand comes up to try and massage a knot out of his tense neck muscles. He pinches up the red skin and muscle there with his meaty fingers and then they skip down his pointy vertebras one by one.

He stretches out his fingers and about touches Loki who walks back a step almost bumping into an older woman with a glass cleaning spray in hand.

"Sorry," he mumbles to her and the bald man turns to look. Loki looks down at his bag of rubber bands like _what do you want I wasn't looking at you._

The queue moves along and when it's Loki's turn to pay, the cashier signals for him to wait just a sec and zips her jacket all the way up until the zipper digs into her neck just below her Adam's apple and the fabric sits nice and tight around her throat and Loki spreads his fingers over the base of his neck without even noticing.

"What do you need so many for?" she asks as she's ringing up the ugly bands—they're not even in color just plain blah dirty snot yellow.

There were small bags of these on the shelf but he went for a big one with the gazillion bands in it and he thinks _great thinking brain a band for each bad thought I've ever had, not enough bands in there for ya._

Deciding to try and play it cool or something, he sticks his hands inside his pockets, leans across the counter and says with a _I've got a secret_ smile, "it's a matter of life and death, actually."

She just gives him an open mouthed smile like _'kay you're weird_ and it takes Loki a while to realize it probably wasn't funny cause it's not so far from the truth. This thing he and Thor are about to do is dangerous. That's what makes it exciting, though.

Stopping in the shop's restroom to take a selfie cause with his room in a mess and his mom hovering over him for the rest of the day cause he's acting weird, he might not get a chance and he needs to send Thor one. It's this thing they agreed on: right before Loki and his mom left the shop, Loki told him he can't come over to Thor's apartment for at least 3 days cause school nights, but he'll try and make it on the weekend with a lie instead of a sneaking out. They decided on exchanging selfies until then to keep the anticipation high, as if it could fizzle out (no way, Loki's waiting for the weekend like his life fucking depends on it).

He puts his phone next to the sink and takes the ribbon out of his pocket. Grabbing it by one end, he lets it unfurl. The golden thread running through it sparkles like it's winking at him and Loki wraps it round his neck. Holding the ends together at the back with one hand, Loki picks up his phone and hits record on a vid. He films himself tightening it and his lips part when he gets that toe-curling tightening in his belly and he goes hard in his skinny jeans.  The ribbon does nothing to cut off his air—it's too thin and if he'll really tug on it hard it will snap. But the growing pressure on his windpipe feels good and he bites his lips and tilts his head back a little bit so Thor can see his neck better, how the ribbon is digging into his skin sparkling gold and twilight black.

Hearing footsteps, Loki stops the vid and stuffs the ribbon back in his pocket.

He gets all the way to the restroom door before he realizes he forgot the bag and runs back to the sink to get it.

Walking to his mom's car, Loki sends Thor the vid.

When he starts the car, Thor texts him back.

_U are killing me babe._

Then:

_2 more days._

And:

_Bring that ribbon with. We'll play._

Back home, his mom makes Loki pop the bag open and put one on.

Loki rips the bag open with his teeth, taking down a crackling plastic corner.

She watches the springy bands with a satisfied look on her face. She's sure that if he'll lose one ever again he'll have more so he'll never be caught without one and it probably makes her feel safe.

Loki stretches one and slips his hand through it. It settles around his wrist, bumpy and cold and unpleasant. He gives his mom a _you happy now_ look and puts the car keys in her hand.

"Good," she says, "now go put those in your room."

She slips the keys into her overall pocket and pads to the kitchen.

Halfway up the stairs, Loki turns to look. He spots his mom looking all confused by the counter, staring at the spot the ribbon was at before.

Loki jogs the rest of the way up before she gets a chance to ask him if he'd seen it.

 

Loki keeps the rubber band on. He doesn't want to risk taking it off, forgetting to put it back on and getting his mom to give him that look again like _why do I need to be the one to keep your craziness in check, Loki._

It's not just this look she gives him these days. She also has that suspicious look like _what's going on inside that head of yours, whatever it is it can't be good._

And the _why are you such a disappointment. Parents walk in on their kids planning their future with colleges and scholarships and I walk in on you and find you pleasuring yourself with a belt around your neck, where did I and your father go wrong with raising you._

And that wordless look she gives him more times than he'd like to admit, where it's just throbbing pain at him being like this, being different in the most horrible way, worrying for his future, wondering if the police will find him one day when he's living alone, hanging from the ceiling with some choking porn vid on replay playing on the screen.

And it hurts. All of it hurts. Disappointing her hurts. Making her worry hurts. Knowing she looks at him like he's this broken thing now, hurts. But Loki can't help being like this. He's flirting with death and it gives him the sweetest high so why stop?

 

Lying in his room trying to fall asleep at 3 am, Loki's phone buzzes. He sits up so fast his vision goes black for a few secs and he feels dizzy. A brief musing: is this what it feels like to die?

And then, blinking the spidery black patches of temporary blindness from his eyes, he checks his phone. Thor sent him a selfie. He doesn't have a shirt on and you can only see him from the navel down. He's stretching out a belt between his hands and it's veins popping out and it's big silver rings on his fingers bulking them up, tendons running along his wrists and Loki lies back down, holding the phone up, biting his lip.

Then, a text.

_Like it babe?_

The popopopop sound of Loki's fingers typing away on the miniature phone keys.

_Very much._

Then he adds:

_Jerk my head back with it and fuck me hard from behind. Tighten and tighten it till I'm gasping and scratching your arm cause I can't breathe._

Thor texts back a second later.

_Fuck. U just killed me._

Loki gives a little smile and sends another text.

_When ppl will ask you about the scratches, what will u tell them._

Loki rubs the front of his neck, pinching his windpipe over and over again, feeling all its ridges and bumps.

_Easy. I'll tell em a crazy cat got me. One that lost its collar._

A pic pops up on the screen.

It's Loki's torn bracelet in Thor's big fist, one end of it dangling from between his fingers.

Tugging on the icky rubber band he has on with his teeth, Loki texts back.

_U still have it._

Thor replies.

_Keeping it. Can't wait to see you. Is it Saturday already?_

Thor texts Loki in the middle of lit class.

_Put your hand over your mouth and nose. Imagine it's my hand._

The teacher's voice grows dim and distant and Loki focuses all his attention on this one single text. Loki sinks back into the chair and texts Thor with the phone under the table.

_I'm in class._

His heart goes crazy fast cause he just told Thor he's surrounded by people and now Thor knows and it'll make it even more exciting cause it'll be their own secret in a crowd of people, a little speck of darkness in a circle of light and Loki bounces his leg up and down fast as he waits for Thor to text back.

The text appears without a sound, the screen lighting up all of a sudden casting a cool glow over Loki's anxious fingers.

_Do it, babe. And don't remove your hand till I say you can._

Bracing the phone on his thighs, Loki lifts his eyes from the phone and stares straight ahead, bringing his hand slowly up to his mouth. He blinks at the teacher who's pacing around, reading from their study book and laying his forearm across his chest, he puts his palm over his nose and mouth. He lays his other hand across his abdomen so it'll look like he's just sitting there listening.

One guy turns his head and looks at him and Loki pretends like he doesn't notice, putting on a bored face and the guy looks away.

Loki focuses on the heat coming off his phone, a rectangle of warmth pressing down into his thigh. He focuses on the weight of his own arm resting across his chest.

He presses down on his mouth and nose, creating a tight seal. He sucks in a noisy breath and blinks rapidly cause drawing in air is hard.

The lower part of his face grows hot.

He hears the wall clock ticking and it's annoying as hell.

Lets the breath out and it warms his skin when it rushes past the tiny spaces between his fingers.

Loki draws another breath in. This time it's even harder to get air inside his lungs and his eyes move over his hand, skittering across the classroom, watching everyone taking notes or following the passages in the book with a finger as their teacher reads them out loud.

Loki tunes out the clock.

On his next inhale his eyes flutter closed. He can feel his hand starting to sweat as his pulse races and it itches between his shoulder blades.

And he imagines Thor's hand clamping over his mouth when Loki cries out cause he's pounding so hard into him it burns and he's pushing Loki's head back into the pillows and when Loki looks up at him with tears in his eyes Thor presses a finger to his own lips and goes _shhh baby._

His classmates sitting all around him are faceless and blurry when Loki opens his eyes, breathing out, checking to see if someone notices something.

"I love it when you scream, baby," he hears Thor saying in his head, "but I love your silence, too. Why you looking at me like that. Want me to let you breathe?"

Loki finds himself mid headshake like no and a nod, and he slides down in the chair a little, struggling to keep his hand in place anymore because it's stuffy in there and there's no air.

He sucks another breath in.

Miss Yard's voice comes from far away and Loki's eyes shift to his phone. Text me c'mon.

Another.

His head feels like it's filled with static and his lids feel heavy. He stares at the phone in a panic, palm hot and sweaty against his face.

Another.

Why isn't Thor texting him.

And it's the tears stinging his eyes and a hard on pressing against his thigh and—

The screen lights up,

_Take your hand off._

Loki does it so fast and gives such a big gasp he gets people staring. He sucks air in fast, tucking hair behind his ears, drawing the book into his lap like just reading here leave me alone.

_Still there?_

Panting, Loki stares at the words, all slumped in the chair. He thinks this was just a taste. With Thor it will be different. It'll be his thumbs digging into his windpipe and he won't be able to breathe unless Thor lets him. Thor's huge, Loki won't be able to get him off him even if he tries.

_Loki?_

As soon as he can text Thor back, he does.

_Took you long enough. Almost started seizing._

A few seconds later Thor texts him back.

_Felt good, though._

_Yeah._

Loki wipes his sweaty palm down on his jeans, takes a huge breath in and lets it out slowly, staring at his open notebook and the pen with its cap full of Loki's teeth marks all over it.

His phone buzzes faintly.

_It's a dangerous game we're playing. You sure you're up to it?_

Loki bites down on his nail.

_I'm sure._

They meet up at store where Thor works in the afternoon. Thor tells the other cashier he'll be back in a bit and heads towards the storage room.

He's super tall and muscular and walking next to him, watching Thor's shoulder-length hair bouncing up and down and around, watching his shoulders move it sends Loki's heart flying.

Inside the storage room, Thor backs Loki up against a wall. One of the lights above them is broken so half the room is cast in scratchy shadows,

Thor's looking at him like Loki is the fucking sun to him and when he pulls Loki in for a quick kiss and fondle Loki's knees go weak. Because it's Thor's left hand around his neck, fingers teasing just under Loki's ears, applying just a little bit of pressure and it's Thor finding Loki's new rubber band and giving him a quizzical look and a _hey what's this thought you were done with this shit_ grin.

"My mom," Loki says as if it explains everything.

Thor pops his gum, toying with Loki's band, "does she know about me."

"God, no. She'll burst a blood vessel in her brain if she found out."

Thor strokes a thumb down Loki's adam's apple, "you sure you wanna do this."

Loki grabs Thor's hand and pushes the thumb into his jugular. His own way of saying fuck yeah.

 

 


End file.
